“She deserves to know, Fiear,” Cyrus said coldly. Fiearius groaned and pressed his palm to his forehead. Twenty minutes ago, he agreed. Now?

“Does she though?” he asked grimly. “Does she really?” Before Cyrus could even answer, he growled, “And you know she wouldn’t take that as an answer anyway. She’d just go–I don’t know–try it herself and get killed.”

“So what, you’re just going to never tell her? Keep leading her on thinking you’ll help when you won’t?”

“No,” Fiearius snapped sharply. “I will help.”

Cyrus’ eyes widened. “Oh I see. You’ll just get yourself killed in her place. Great idea.”

“I don’t really have another option, Cy.”

“You mean besides just talking to her like a normal human being with decent communicative skills?” He shook his head. “You can’t step foot on that ship and come back from it.”

“Maybe,” Fiearius admitted with a shrug.

“Maybe?! You mean probably.” Cyrus rolled his eyes and held up his hand as he grumbled, “I don’t want to know what happened, really I don’t, but please tell me you’re not set on this out of spite.”

Fiearius glanced over at him, raking his hand through his hair. “No,” he decided firmly. “Maybe when I walked in the room…a little. But. No.” He looked away and stared solemnly at the floor. “It’s not spite.”

“So it’s stupidity then.”

“What?! Hey–”

“Trying to redeem yourself with a noble sacrifice?”

“Cyrus–”

“Or do you really just care about her that much?”

Finally, Cyrus looked over at him, tilted his head and waited pointedly for an answer. He got none save for an averted gaze. “If you do, you shouldn’t be planning a suicide mission then,” he concluded at last. “You should just talk to her. Tell her the truth.”

Fiearius simply glared at the floor and shook his head and Cyrus groaned. “I don’t see why you can’t just be honest about it when–”

“Because I know what it’s like, Cy,” Fiearius interrupted at once, finally looking up at him with a cold hard gaze. “I know what it’s like to lose the person you care about more than anything and to know that no matter what you do, no matter how far you travel for however long, you’ll never see them again.” He paused and looked away again. “And I don’t want her to go through that. I don’t.”

Cyrus it seemed didn’t know what to say. After a tense silence, Fiearius spoke again, more calmly. “She has a chance. It might be small. But it’s a chance. If it were Denarian–” he swallowed hard, “–if it were my son? I would do anything. Absolutely fucking anything to get him back. So I get it. And I’ll do it. Because I told her I would. I gave her that hope that it could be done. And I won’t take that away from her. I can’t.”

A long silence passed between them. Fiearius rested his head in his hand and finally let out a confused, quiet laugh. “I guess Aiden was right. I am doing this for the wrong reasons.”

Cyrus looked down at his hands and then slowly up at his brother. “Sounds like a pretty right reason to me,” he commented with a shrug. The two siblings stared at one another thoughtfully until Cyrus cracked a weak smile and remarked, “Well. Impossible, right?” He turned back to the console with the blueprints. “We’ve done impossible before.” He smirked again. “How bad can it be?”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

For most of the day, Leta kept to herself, pacing her room, attempting to read, anything for a distraction. She knew she owed Fiearius a conversation and she spent hours rehearsing it in her head. I’m really sorry this happened, she’d tell him. I’m really sorry that I let things get out of hand …

She’d keep a safe five feet from him. There was no chance of this happening again, no temptation, no more slip-ups. No more late-night talks. No more story-telling with no one else around. No more whisky. After dinner, she vowed to do it. After dinner she’d find him to talk.

When she stepped into the mess hall that evening, she was startled to see most of the crew crowded inside already, filling the tables. No one was eating, but murmuring curiously and staring at the entryway expectantly.

“What’s going on?” she asked the room at large, slipping through the door.

“Cap’n called us all here for a meetin’,” grunted Rhys from his table. “Dunno why. Come have a seat, Luna.”

“Leta,” she corrected automatically, lowering into a seat beside Corra, who shrugged at her, equally as confused.

Seconds later, Fiearius materialized in the doorway. The crew hushed at once. It occurred to Leta there had never been anything resembling a formal meeting led by Fiearius in all her time aboard.

But it was clear now: something was off. Something was different. His expression was grave as he paused in the doorway, massaging one of his fists in a thoughtful sort of way as Cyrus hovered behind him. For the briefest of moments, their eyes locked from across the room, but then he moved his gaze to the side and addressed them all.

“At 1800 hours, the ship’s setting off for its next destination,” he said, his voice oddly calm. “Most of you, however, won’t be on it.” He waited a moment for the confused looks and hushed whispers of confusion to pass before continuing. “We’ll be heading to the prison ship TTD Baltimore to retrieve one of its prisoners.”

Shock hit Leta’s chest. She could feel Corra looking at her in surprise, but Leta didn’t move. She felt paralyzed and dizzy. They were going after Ren? Now? After all this time?

“It will not be safe,” Fiearius went on, not looking at her, but the whole crew, “It will not be easy. And I will not put any more people than are necessary in the line of that danger.”

With his audience once more completely captive to his word, Fiearius began to take paces across the floor, weaving his path in between the tables and speaking as clearly as he could. “Most of you will be departing over the next hour with any belongings you feel you need. There are arrangements already made for your lodging in the city. Give them my name, you’ll all be well taken care of. The only people I need on hand are myself, the first mate and the doctor. If you’re not one of those people, time to start packing.”

“However, I also would like two more able gun hands,” he went on suddenly, his eyes drifting vaguely towards Corra and Finn. “But considering the risks, I’m not asking. If anyone feels compelled to volunteer, let me know. Otherwise.” His eyes swept back across the entire room. “The ship will return here for you ideally by the end of the week. If it’s not back in a month?” He raised a brow at them curiously and shrugged. “Might be time to find a new ship.”

“If anyone has any questions, please direct them to someone who is not me,” he finished shortly with a bitter smirk. Then he turned to Cyrus. “Let’s get her started up, shall we?” He patted a wall of the ship affectionately.

As he turned to leave the mess hall, Fiearius glanced over his shoulder once more, scanning the room before his gaze found Leta’s. He met her eyes and gave her one slight nod — as if they’d agreed on something, something unspoken — and followed Cyrus downstairs.

Corra raised an eyebrow in concerned. “You alright over there, chika?”

“I don’t — I don’t know,” said Leta honestly. “I don’t think so.”

Leta stepped fully into the room, closing the hatch behind her as she lowered to the edge of Corra’s bed slowly. Corra perched on a rug on the floor, scooted towards her, curious and eager.

“Something happened last night.” Leta swallowed. “Between Fiearius and I.”

Immediately straightening up in defense, Corra looked suspicious. “What kind of something?”

The words were met with a heavy silence. The moment Leta muttered, “he kissed me,” Corra’s eyes went round.

“He what?!”

“Well — we kissed. It wasn’t just him. We both did.”

“Wait, what?” Corra gasped. “Explain. What happened?”

Leta pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I had to ask him something — ” When Corra flashed her a perplexed look, Leta went on,” — about the deal with Dez. He was in his room, I went up there, and then we started talking. About nothing. And everything.” Her chest clenched, but whether it was out of trepidation or tenderness, she couldn’t be sure. “And one thing led to another and we kissed.”

Corra blinked her eyes slowly, at a loss for words. “I’m confused. Why would you–you wanted to kiss him?”

A long, telling silence followed. Corra seemed to interpret it and her eyes widened even more. “So what does that–does that mean–” Slowly, she looked up at her, the most subtle of curious smiles starting to form on her face. “Do you have, ya know…feelings for him?”

No, said the voice in Leta’s head at once. No, of course not. Fiearius was crude, loud, arrogant and selfish. He got her into trouble more than he ever got her out of it. And she was engaged. She’d made a commitment to someone who was kind, generous, thoughtful …

But the words in her mind did not match the words that she exhaled weakly.

“I think maybe I do.”

Corra’s mouth fell open out of shock — and also, Leta realized, some kind of delight.

“Oh man, really?” she breathed in excitement, as if this were the most juicy piece of gossip she’d ever heard.

“But I — I don’t know,” said Leta quickly. “This is bad, Corra, and honestly? I’m probably just acting out of loneliness. I haven’t seen Ren in … “

“You know, I had a feeling he had a thing for you,” Corra went on briskly, ignoring her, “but I didn’t think it was mutual. I guess I shoulda seen it coming though, the way you two act and all.”

Was that supposed to be reassuring? That meant people had noticed the particular way she and Fiearius exchanged sidelong looks at dinner. The particular way they laughed at one another and then yelled at each other seconds later. The particular way she battled feelings of envy — actual, horrible envy — when she glimpsed him flirting with women in bars.

Guilt churned Leta’s stomach, and she put her face in her hands.

“How long’s this been going on?” Corra demanded suddenly. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

Leta could only guess. “Because I didn’t want it to be true?”

“Yeah, can’t say I understand your taste much…” Corra muttered, smiling. But the smile faded. “But what about Ren?”

“Corra, I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” Leta breathed fiercely into her hands. “I miss Ren so much. I don’t know why I’m — why this is happening. And I don’t know what to do about it, except pretend this never happened.”

“Aw, hey, c’mon,” said Corra gently, getting up to sit beside Leta and leaning her head on her shoulder. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve just had a real crazy year. I mean, you’re on a pirate ship in the middle of nowhere, you’ve been shot at, captured, this ship could go down any minute and to top it all off, you’re here because you lost your fiance. I’m pretty sure anybody with even the tiniest of hearts could forgive you for getting a little emotionally confused.”

Leta mustered a watery sad smile. “I think you’re going a little easy on me, considering I just technically cheated on my fiance.” She pressed her fingers against her eyes, willing away the scene entirely. “I just really shouldn’t care about Fiearius like this.”

At that, Corra murmured thoughtfully, then decided, “Yeah probably not, he’s kind of a jerk,” and cracked a mischievous grin. After a pause, she tilted her head. “So what’re ya gonna do?”

With an enormous effort, Leta slid her hands from her face. “Same as before,” she breathed. “This thing with Fiearius — whatever it is — it can’t change anything. I’m going to get Ren back.”

“Yeah?” Corra offered an encouraging smile that faded just as quickly as it had come. “Does Fiear know that?”

“I’ll tell him if I have to,” said Leta quietly, hoping very much she wouldn’t need to. “It’s always been this way. It’s why I stayed aboard, he knows that. It’s not as if — it’s not like I’m picking Ren over him, it isn’t like that.”

Corra grimaced. “He might not see it that way…”

“Well he has to. I’m engaged.” Leta forced her expression to harden, although she crumbled almost at once. “Gods, I shouldn’t even be thinking about this — or about him — “

“Hey, no,” Corra scolded at once. “It’s okay. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Ya can’t help the way you feel. And you guys have been through a lot together. Can’t fault ya for getting a little swept up in it.”

Leta didn’t want to admit it, but after a long, worried pause, she confessed, “I think I’m a lot swept up in it.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“No, that’s definitely the only other entry.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Cyrus stared up at his brother blankly. “I’ve been reading ship blueprints since I was six. I’m sure.”

Fiearius cast him an annoyed glance before rolling his eyes and deciding not to care about Cyrus’ attitude for the time being. The judgy glares his little brother had been giving him since he’d learned to walk were bad enough. He didn’t also need the snarky know-it-all demeanor. As if everything else wasn’t enough.

“Thank you, little brother, for your expert opinion,” he barked, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the metal wall.

Cyrus, however, was unapologetic. “You’re welcome,” he replied bluntly. “I’m serious though.” He started drawing lines around the blueprints with his finger as he spoke. “They’ve got this hangar that’s big enough and versatile enough to accommodate any needs they might have, they don’t need a ton of entry points. Anything that comes in, comes in through there. These hatches,” he circled five more points on the map, “are only there to satisfy emergency protocols. They’re probably sealed shut from the inside and even if they’re not, there’s no way you, on your ship or any ship can reach it. This whole section right here,” another drawn line over the screen, “Visibility points. Even with a cloaking device, they’ll just look out the window and our cover’s blown.” He grimaced thoughtfully and looked back at the screen. “They’ve really got this place locked down…How has anyone else broken out?”

Fiearius sighed and gazed at the screen emptily, an image he’d spent far too long staring at over the past few weeks and one he’d probably be staring at even longer for the upcoming ones.

“They haven’t,” he replied shortly. At Cyrus’ look of surprise, he went on, “Not since the modern ships. Not a single breakout. Across the board. Totally clean.”

Cyrus frowned. “I can see why…” he muttered, sparing one last glance at the prints.

“It’s impossible,” Fiearius told him expressionlessly, utterly numbed to the concept by now.

“Have you told her that?” was his little brother’s quiet, hesitant response. The hard look of defeat Fiearius gave in return said it all. Cyrus frowned up at him and sighed, “You need to tell her.”

At once, Fiearius shook his head. “No.”

His frown flattened into annoyance. “No?” he repeated bluntly.

“No,” Fiearius said again.

“Fiear,” she prompted quietly, slipping a hand over his forearm and taking backwards steps to the ship.

But he resisted her pull. “What other arrangements?” he demanded to know. “What does that mean?”

Desophyles just smiled and Leta tugged at his arm again. “Fiear, let’s go — “

This time, he relented, stepping backwards with her although his manic stare was still locked onto his old friend. “What the hell are you playing at…” he muttered quietly.

“Always a pleasure seeing you, Fiearius,” he called after them as they retreated. “Safe travels. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again soon. Real soon.”

Even from a distance, Leta could see the unsettling smirk that twisted his lips. But she pushed it out of her mind as she hurried downstairs to the infirmary and opened the prized, treasured med kit, to begin treatment at last.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Hours later and a system away, as she hovered nervously in the shadow of a building, Corra couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder, satisfying her paranoia that someone from the ship had followed her. Fiearius, maybe — after all, he’d be wildly horrified, furious if he knew —

But it seemed there were only two people in this dark alleyway, for better or worse.

At last, Dez broke the silence.

“This is it?” he murmured, turning the small black sphere over in his hand, admiring it in the dim light.

Corra’s eyes shot back to him, every inch of her wishing she was elsewhere. Fiearius was right: this man was completely unnerving. He was so — silent. And cold. Soulless as a statue. Every careful and calculated move he made gave her the distinct desire to bolt for her life. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Not until she had a promise.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she assured him breathlessly, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “That’s a Caelum Lex. Last in existence.” Dez turned it over in his hand once more, cool and thoughtful.

Meanwhile, Corra was riddled with nerves and desperate to get back to the ship before anyone noticed she’d been gone. Gods, what would Leta say, if she knew she was making a deal with this man? But it was for a good reason. Fiearius’ plan to run never would have worked. And where would the Dionysian be without him? Corra didn’t have a choice. Surely Leta would understand —

“So we’re good, right?” she added quickly, and at last, Dez’s dark eyes flicked up to hers.

But he said nothing. She pretended that stare didn’t cut straight through her defenses. She pretended she didn’t feel the wave of paranoia that she wouldn’t be leaving here alive. She pretended she wasn’t more scared than she’d ever been. And she pressed on, “You let Fiear go, I gave you the Caelum Lex, that’s what you agreed to, right?”

Silence hovered between them. Corra could feel her panic starting to mount. Should she have ran? But just as her feet started to mobilize, he finally spoke.

“Yes,” was all he said. “It is.”

Corra nodded weakly and abruptly turned away to get the hell out of there. But on the edge of the alleyway, something made her turn back. Uncomfortably, she met his stare and said, “Just…leave the Dionysian alone, alright? Please. Just let us be…”

The dark eyes didn’t move, but something about them seemed to change. Was he smirking? Whatever it was, it made the skin on the back of her neck prickle, and she hurried away into the street, her heart still pounding.

“And I’m taking care of myself,” she breathed fiercely. “Alright? I just need the correct medication. It’s just only in Society hospitals because it’s such an aggressive treatment, no drug dealer can get their hands on it to just dole it out on street corners, unfortunately. And obviously strolling into a Society Intensive Care unit is — ” Before she could stem it, a tortured laugh escaped her. ” — tricky. They’re rather protective of their medication. Not even an option –”

“Sure it is,” Fiearius interrupted at once. He spoke so confidently it actually threw her for a moment. But only a moment.

“No, it’s isn’t. Of course it’s isn’t. Remember what happened last time we went near a Society planet? This ship was almost blown up, if you recall.”  Leta clapped her forehead where she felt a fever prickle dully behind her flesh. “Gods,  you’re insane — “

“No I’m not,” was his immediate response as he shrugged one shoulder. “I do lifts like this all the time. If that’s the only place you can get the stuff, I’ll just go get it.”

Leta was agape. “You,” she breathed, “are not going anywhere near a Society hospital. None of us are. I’ve been looking for ways to get the medicine off the black market — ”

Fiearius furrowed his brow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let me guess. Not going so well, is it?”

Leta faltered and fell briefly silent. It was even worse saying this all out loud. Especially to Fiearius. It was like being exposed, naked, right in front of him. Steadying her voice, she breathed, “It’s really risky to run with Society goods, no one wants to do it, and the people who do — they could sell me out  — ”

“Yeah,” Fiearius agreed shortly, still regarding her intently in that way that made her want to flee for the hallway or just punch him in the face. “I coulda told ya that. Ages ago.” His frown deepened. “I mean, if I knew.”

He was torturing her. Even when she was this close to death, he still enjoyed torturing her. For one awful moment, Leta felt the back of her eyes burn, but thank the gods she managed to laugh sourly, “Let me guess. You have an idea?”

Fiearius continued to glare at her, though the anger slowly started to fade into thoughtfulness. Finally, he answered with a careless shrug, “Yeah. I’ll just break into a hospital.”

Leta closed her eyes, an image of scolding. “Fiearius…. that’s impossible. You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he muttered distractedly before releasing a long sigh. It was a long time before he even moved again. He merely stood, still and silent and staring upwards. Until finally he took in a deep breath and his eyes clenched shut.

“I think…” he began slowly, still not looking at her. “I think I know someone who can get it for us.”

“Who?”

Fiearius eyed her a moment and sighed again. “An uh — old friend,” he replied at last and seemed to want to leave it at that. But Leta just continued to stare at him expectantly until finally he continued, “Look, if anyone can get it, it’s Dez.”

It was, quite possibly, the least assuring plan Fiearius had ever conjured. She could have sank to the floor in disbelief.

“Dez?” An actual laugh breathed from her lungs. “Your old ‘friend’? The guy who has been hunting you? The last time we ran into Dez, I believe you made us flee for our lives –“

Fiearius rolled his eyes again and snapped, “Yeah I’m aware of that, thanks, but what other choice do we have? You’re right, I can’t go to the hospital to get it myself, there’s nobody who’s gonna risk dealing Society drugs especially not to Society fugitives and if they’re so uptight about keeping it locked up, we need someone who has that kinda access anyway or by the time it gets to us, it’ll be too late.” He took a deep breath and glanced seriously at the door. “Dez could get it and get it fast. Without issue. Dez is the only one. It has to be him.”

“No.” Leta’s voice, for the first time, was heavy with real worry. “No. We’re not going to him. Dez wants you dead, Fiear.”

“He doesn’t want me dead,” Fiearius corrected at once. “He just wants me returned to Satieri.” He paused. “And probably then dead. But it’s fine. At least I have something he wants at all. Leverage. It’s good.”

“Leverage?” Leta repeated in disbelief. “You don’t mean — you’re not going to turn yourself in, are you? Please, gods, tell me you aren’t that stupid — “

“Of course not,” he growled, an image of irritation. “I’ll just tell him I will. And then take the drugs and run.”

“He’ll see that coming.”

“Probably,” Fiearius admitted. “But it’s our only option, so I’m taking it.”

“Absolutely not,” said Leta, full of steel, “We’re not using Dez. We’ll find someone else to help  — anyone else — “

But Fiearius shook his head. “Ain’t no one else, kiddo. It’s Dez or death.” He cocked a brow at her in challenge and then turned to stride through the door. Over his shoulder, he added,  “And to hell if I’m just gonna stand here and watch you die.”

Twenty minutes and a mad sprint along the docks later, and Leta had never been happier to be inside the Dionysian’s rusted walls. Somehow, amazingly, they had all made it aboard, and the familiar warm rumble of the engine below had never sounded more beautiful: at last, they were taking off.

“I’m never,” Leta breathed weakly, her lungs still burning, “going back to Paraven. Ever. This is the worst planet in the entire span.” She sank against a wall of the crew deck, catching her breath. Corra sat on the floor at her feet  and Finn was sprawled over an armchair nearby.

“Never doubted us for a second,” he said proudly, sliding his hands behind his neck. “We’ve all gotten outta worse scrapes than that. And hey, we oughta have a drink to celebrate.”

“It’s barely noon,” said Leta.

“I’m still hungover from last night,” added Corra, dropping her forehead in her hand. “I can’t even believe that worked,” she muttered. “Who would have thought flashing just a drawn-on librera would let us walk right out of there so easily?”

“Powerful mark, that thing,” Finn mumbled, sinking into the chair. “Maybe I should get one.”

Corra shot him a nasty glare and said sweetly, “Maybe you should. Might be fun watching Fiear try to kill you. I’ve always wondered who’d win in a fight.”

“Me,” said Finn simply, raising his eyes toward her. “It’d be me.”

“So what happened with that girl who got us out?” Leta intervened, recalling her with a start and straightening up off the wall. “What was her name? Richelle, yeah? Did she end up coming aboard? I didn’t see her when we were taking off — “

“Yeah, she ran upstairs. Probably to Fiearius’ quarters.” Corra rolled her eyes. “After all the trouble she went through, cap’n didn’t really have a choice but to let her come along I guess.”

“I guess we do owe Richelle some thanks,” Leta had to admit, trying not to imagine Richelle anywhere near Fiearius’ bed, “With that disguise of hers, she’s the only reason w — “

But she never got the chance to finish. Just then, footsteps pounded down the hall and Fiearius appeared in the doorway of the crew deck. The look on his face was one of such darkness that even Finn and Corra went wide-eyed and immediately still.

But he wasn’t looking at either of them. His gaze narrowed on Leta as he stormed into the room and growled out, “When the hell were you going to tell me?”

Leta was, quite simply, blank with surprise. “What?” she breathed, sidestepping his affront. “What the hell are you talking about?”

But then she felt her heart grow cold with realization. It wasn’t possible that he — how did he know — he couldn’t have possibly known about her illness. She’d slipped up once and Finn knew, but no one else; she’d kept it close and didn’t breathe a word to Corra, to Cyrus, nor to Fiearius.

Because if she didn’t say it aloud, it wasn’t real.

Her expression must have softened with emotion because Fiearius gritted his teeth as he regarded her. “So it’s true then.”

Somehow, Leta managed to ignore the alarmed stares from Corra and Finn and steel her nerves. And with that, came her defenses. He was cornering her like a caged animal, and her anger sparked and ignited.

“I — we’re not talking about this here,” she breathed furiously, averting her eyes as she went to edge around him, but she didn’t get far: abruptly, apparently in agreement, Fiearius seized her forearm and turned to drag her down the hallway.

It was useless to strain against his hold, but Leta still fought his hard grip as he manhandled her all the way downstairs. He was taking them to the infirmary, she realized with a start, which was particularly insulting: not only was this an attack from a bully, but it was going to take place in her own backyard? The infirmary was her own godsdamn sanctuary. Fiearius certainly knew how to make a point.

And for that, she shot him a deathly glare and jerked her arm away once they’d made it inside. She circled away just as Fiearius slammed the door with a bang that filled the whole room.

“I’ll ask again then,” he began impatiently, his eyes coldly on her. He stepped into the now-silent room as she pressed her back against the counter. “When the hell were you gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what, exactly?” she spat. Her hands dug into the cold counter behind her. “What is it you think you know?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he remarked innocently, and then narrowed his glare, “maybe that you’ll be dead in a week?”

His words hit like a bullet in the chest and for a moment, she didn’t move. Six weeks, actually, replied the eerily calm voice in her mind, but all she said was, unclenching her throat, “I’ve got a little longer than a week. Lucky you.”

Her words hung in the air with a nasty sting that made Fiearius scoff in disbelief. “And how long have you been just not mentioning this? What, I’m not worth trusting with shit like this all of a sudden?”

“It’s not a matter of trusting you!” she cried, digging her hands into her hair. “I was going to tell you — when it made sense to. And I have plenty of reasons for not telling you. If you’d actually listen — “

Fiearius laughed, harsh and bitter. “Oh really? ‘Cause I can think of about thirty reasons you should have,” he barked as he halted in the center of the floor. Somehow his presence seemed to take up the whole room.

Swallowing hard in her throat, Leta paced a few steps before him. “I was stabbed in the fighting ring. Remember that?” she mused bitterly. “With a shoddy knife.” She crouched and yanked up the edge of her pantleg, exposing the seven-inch, thick scar that marred her calf. She could feel Fiearius staring at it, oddly, coldly silent, so she hurried on and stood up quickly, “It got infected. That’s why I’m sick. And that’s why I didn’t tell you. Because I was afraid you’d think it was your fault when it clearly isn’t,” she finished shortly.

Fiearius threw a hand in the air, instantly appalled. “Because I’d—what? Who the hell do you think I am? I don’t need you to fucking protect me.”

Leta ceased her pacing. “Look. I know you already blame yourself for Aiden’s death. This is the last thing you — “

Fiearius’ jaw unhinged. “Wait, what?” he demanded, incredulous and insulted; he looked ready to throw the nearest med cart across the room at the mention of Aiden’s name.

“But that’s nothing compared to this final charge,” she went on, gazing at her seriously. “Nothing compared to kidnapping.”

Leta stared avidly at the piece of paper. “Kidnapping?” She adopted a look of surprise. “Who’s been kidnapping? That sounds serious.”

“We certainly take it seriously. Stealing a nineteen-year-old girl from her home in the dead of the night is something we take very, very seriously.”

“I’m truly glad to hear that,” said Leta earnestly. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank gods that’s not what happened last night.”

“What, exactly, do you think happened?”

“I know what happened. The girl acted of her own free will when she came aboard and she can leave whenever she likes. I’m sure she’d tell you the same thing.”

Tiya leaned back in her chair, surveying Leta through narrowed slits of her eyes. Quite abruptly, she said, “That captain of yours. Soliveré. You trust him, do you?”

For the first time, Leta was given reason to pause. Her mind flashed back to when, months ago now, Fiearius threw himself in that fighting ring with her. Or later, the look on his face when he’d spoken at Aiden’s funeral. Or much more recently, the lopsided grin he’d cast her when he passed over a whiskey bottle and spilled his life story.

“Yes,” she stated quietly, “I do.”

Tiya arched her eyebrows high on her forehead. “You do, do you? Now that is touching. Foolish of you, but touching. You know, you don’t strike me as sentimental.”

“I’m not. But people can surprise you.”

“Indeed.” Tiya cocked her head to the side and abruptly slid the papers closer again. This time, her smile was eerie and broad. “And we know a few surprising things about you, Miss Adler, don’t we?”

Before Leta could begin to guess where this was going, Tiya flipped over the paper and darted her eyes over it. “Tell me. Does that captain you like so much know about your employers?”

Leta’s heart was beginning to flutter in her chest. But all she said was, her voice flat, “The hospital? Unity Healthcare Clinic? Sure.”

“No, no, not those employers, my dear.” She looked up, her smile glinting. “Does he know you work for the Society?“

Leta went very still, pressing her palms into the table. “I don’t,” she said, her first honest confession in the whole interrogation. “I don’t work for them.”

Tiya pressed her lips together and murmured, “No, hm? Says right here in their records that you do — “

“That’s not true,” said Leta at once, resisting the urge to snatch the paper out of her hands. “I’d never work for them again. Ever. I worked in their labs, but I left years ago — “

“And you think Soliveré will believe that?”

Her words sliced through the room and halted her in place. That was yet another thing Fiearius would probably never forgive her for, she thought, feeling a brush of hysteria.

“Of course he will,” she said quietly. Tiya’s eyes — it was infuriating — actually softened with pity.

“Listen,” she said, leaning over and patting her hand, “Listen, Leta. You tell us where Richelle Donovan is, and Soliveré will never hear from us that you’re working for the people who want him and his brother dead. How’s that sound, Miss Adler? We won’t tell him you’re a Society spy.”

Silence followed her words, and then Officer Tiya leaned over and carefully, painstakingly, unrolled Leta’s sleeve for her — exposing her own Society mark, which somehow looked brighter, shining. It was the mark she kept hidden beneath her sleeve since her first day aboard the Dionysian.

Leta looked down her arm, then up at the officer.

“I’m not a spy. Richelle wasn’t kidnapped, and you can tell him whatever you like,” she breathed at last.  “Tell him, go ahead. It doesn’t matter — it doesn’t even anymore.”

“Oh no? It doesn’t matter?” Tiya said, almost tauntingly. “Why — are you perhaps ready to confess? Or! Are you planning to leave that scum of a crew after all?”

Leta could have laughed. Or cried. All at once, she felt a wave of emotion so powerful that it exhausted her, and all she could do was mumble, “Yes, something like that.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“I didn’t kidnap anyone,” said Fiearius breezily, as if he and Aster were out to brunch and not two hours into this interrogation. Aster was seated across from him, practically tearing his hair out in frustration as Fiearius ignored his every question, kicking the edge of his foot against the floor cheerfully, “This is boring. Let’s talk about something else. You seen any good films lately?”

His words were met with a raw growl of frustration as Aster slapped the middle of the table. The gun was still sitting pointedly between them, untouched for now, though Aster kept inching his hand toward it and then seeming to decide against it and dug his hands into his hair instead.

“There were witnesses,” he insisted for what had to be the twentieth time. “They saw you put a gun to her head and heard you threaten to kill her and watched you drag her away.”

“That sounds like a good one. I always like a good kidnapping drama. What’s it called? I don’t have much time for theaters anymore, but if I get a chance,” said Fiearius through a laugh.

Aster’s face was growing redder and redder. He tightened his fist. “Listen. I’ve got a team searching your ship right now, tearing it apart piece by piece. Any second now they’ll return with enough evidence to put you to death. So — how about you make your confession now?”

“What confession?” Fiearius asked innocently.

“What confession?! How can you even–it’s irrefutable!”

“No it’s not.”

“It is! We have at least eight confirmed testimonies that all line up. We have security feed of you entering the building. We have feed of you leaving the building. With her,” he snapped.

“Not me,” Fiearius remarked shortly.

“Of course, we made a mistake,” Aster groaned sarcastically, leaning back in his chair so hard it nearly tipped over. “There are plenty of people who look just like you. You’re incredibly commonplace.” He gestured vaguely to Fiearius who just blinked back at him absently. “We just mistook you for someone else.”

“Great. So can I go now?”

Aster’s eyes scrunched, his fists clenched, his teeth bared and he shouted, “Just tell me where she is!”

Fiearius tilted his head curiously. “Where who is?”

“Richelle Donovan!”

“Who’s that?”

With a snarl, Aster suddenly pushed himself to his feet and pulled his gun with him. Fiearius followed the trajectory of the weapon curiously, his head tilted in interest. The Paraven police force wasn’t known for brutality, exactly, and there was simply no way this man had the authority to pull that trigger.

Still, it was quite a sight, watching this man struggle to release the safety mechanism of his gun (his hands were shaking with anger). He’d very nearly completed the gesture when the door behind him suddenly banged open, admitting another officer.

“Sir,” greeted the younger man. “We’ve got something you need to see.”

“Now, Shaw? Now?” cried Aster. “Can’t you see I’m — “

“Discussing arts and culture?” suggested Fiearius.

“ — busy?” finished Aster angrily. “Surely this can wait — “

“No. It can’t.” The young man lifted a slip of paper he held in his hand. “You’ll like this.”

Dropping the gun on the table, grumbling to himself, Aster joined the young man near the door. A few minutes passed in which they whispered back and forth, a murmured conversation. At last, Aster turned around, holding the paper in his hands.